


Life For Me

by GuineapigQueen



Series: Tumblr prompts [5]
Category: South Park
Genre: Implied Past Child Abuse, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mpreg, tweek gets a happy ending don't fret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2019-11-12 20:37:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18018014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuineapigQueen/pseuds/GuineapigQueen
Summary: Maybe he’s being paranoid, but the thought cements itself in his brain. A voice in his head chants, you’re pregnant, you’re pregnant, you’re pregnant!





	1. Everything's Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> Based off this prompt: "Tweet and Craig in the hospital after having their daughter (Tweek is the one who had her) and he’s worried that he won’t be a good parent"  
> This ended up monstrous I hope thats okay, I kinda went wild with the prompt and wanted to tell the whole story. Thank you to metrophobic for editing this huge thing.  
> Soundtrack: Life for Me - Lily Allen

Consciousness is transient for Tweek. He finds himself just slipping under, even if his sleep comes in short fitful bursts. It’s restless and uncomfortable, his entire body hurts but it just can’t keep itself awake. The drugs are doing what they can, trying their best to knock him out, but they are making him feel heavy and nauseous while they’re at it. Craig keeps telling him to rest but how can  _ he,  _ not when all of this went so wrong, so horribly. This was supposed to be the best day of their lives, but it isn’t. Tweek is full of pain and worry. 

 

Tweek hasn’t seen his baby yet: a girl, the doctors told him. He hasn’t even held her because he wasn’t conscious when they cut her out. Craig got to hold her, and he says she’s tiny and beautiful. He says she’s a fierce warrior, and Tweek doesn’t need to worry. She’s late preterm anyway, Craig has said, she’s going to be fine. And maybe that’s true, but Tweek still messed up majorly in the process of bringing her into the world. He wracks his brain, trying to think of  _ something _ he did during the pregnancy that could have caused it. Did he drink too much coffee before he realised he was pregnant? Is it because he still took his medication? Did he eat something he shouldn’t have? Maybe he didn’t exercise enough? Or maybe too much? He just doesn’t know, but Tweek does know that somewhere along the line, he screwed up.

 

“When can I see her?” he mumbles to Craig. Coherence isn’t his strong point at the moment but Craig seems to work it out.

 

“When you’re stronger, Tweek, you need to heal more before you can move around,” he answers sympathetically. He strokes Tweek’s hand as he does so, weaving carefully around the I.V. drip.

 

“It’s not fair,” Tweek moans, “I need to see my baby.”

 

“I know,” Craig shushes him. “I know, honey, but she’s okay! She’s doing well, it’s you we gotta focus on getting better.”

 

Tweek knows this is true, he’s the one who lost a ton of blood and is all stitched up inside. He’s the one with fucked kidneys from the whole ordeal, but still, she’s small and she’s  _ his.  _ He needs to protect her, even if she is recovering better than he is at the moment. She was still born sickly; they were both dying. The bond they had that kept her alive these some 36 weeks had to be severed by force or it would kill them. Birth from death is the last thing Tweek wanted for them. 

 

“I fucked this up,” he says, hoarse.

 

“Shit like this is out of your control, Tweek, you know that. The doctor said himself that it’s not something that can be predicted,” Craig says, trying to reassure him. It doesn’t work.

 

“No logic, Craig,” Tweek tries to articulate through the drugs. “It’s not logical.” This feeling runs against that, it’s deep seated in his bones. He can’t shake it or will it away - failure. He had one fucking job and his body couldn’t even do that right. 

 

“Okay babe,” Craig replies. “You haven’t fucked up anything, okay? I love you.”

 

Tweek just feels horribly empty when Craig leaves to visit their daughter. Tweek hates that he’s the one keeping his family apart. That he’s not healing fast enough. That it’s all on him.

 

—

 

TRIMESTER ONE

 

Tweek knows he is a mess, but he didn’t think he was  _ this  _ much of a mess. Adulthood is something he’s been fumbling through, but he’s been trying to do his best and get his shit together. He’s not always as successful as he wants to be but he’s doing his best. But now, he doesn’t feel that way so much. He feels like he messed up, and badly.

 

After missing work for a few days because he felt so ill - puking, headaches, fatigue, the lot - he hasn’t felt any better this morning. He decides to just tough it out and go to work. Work is mostly okay, but the customers are often noisy and the smell of the food cooking makes him really nauseous. After the lunch rush things quiet down so Tweek can do something mindless, like inventory or wiping tables. He ends up doing the latter to try and get away from the greasy smell of the kitchen. It’s kinda easy to just drift off into a daydream, even if he feels like he wants to faceplant into the table right then and there. He still feels nauseous. It’s weird, constant but not always overpowering, and he genuinely feels so weak and tired that he has to keep kneeling down and closing his eyes just to summon the strength to carry on. Wiping tables really isn’t that hard, he should have been able to power through this.

 

His zombielike state is interrupted by a group coming into the diner. An extended family, it looks like. They aren’t being super loud and obnoxious, but their conversation is enough to draw Tweek from his own head. He greets them as nicely as he can muster and gets to work pushing some tables together so that all of them can sit. There’s maybe ten people, a pretty even ratio of adult-to-kid. The only thing that catches Tweek’s eye is that one of the moms is pregnant - like, really,  _ really _ pregnant. So pregnant she needs her husband’s help to get into her seat. Tweek winces on her behalf before going to summon one of the waitstaff to take their order. Normally as a manager, Tweek would assign himself the harder jobs, but today he can’t manage it. His staff seem to understand anyway, that he’s clearly not himself. So he goes back to wiping, and decides to take his break after finishing.

 

He stays in the diner for his break, sliding into a booth opposite the families’ table. He orders lemonade, hoping it might settle his stomach and that the sugar might perk him up, but doesn’t order any food. Even thinking about a greasy burger makes him dry heave. He generally uses his break to do dumb stuff like check his phone or play mobile games, but today he can’t even find the strength to do that. Instead he crosses his arms on the table and rests his head on them, involuntarily closing his eyes before trying to jolt himself back awake. He just wants to go home and curl up in bed, just to be comfortable and warm in his own misery. 

 

When he can keep his eyes open he watches the family as discreetly as he can. He likes to people-watch; he tries his best not to outright stare and make people uncomfortable, but he enjoys observing and seeing what kind of people frequent his space. This family all seem pleasant enough, they’re laughing and joking with one another and the kids aren’t screaming or trashing the place. Tweek’s gaze keeps drifting back to the pregnant woman. She’s complaining about the smell of her husband’s burger making her feel sick.

 

Tweek shoots to sitting up immediately. That sounds painfully familiar. His heart begins to wildly beat in his chest and his mouth goes dry with the realisation. 

 

_ No, no, this can’t happen to me!  _

 

But it all makes sense. He’s never, ever felt so repelled by the smell of the diner, and although the feeling sick lasts all day, he does puke the most in the morning. And the fatigue - Tweek has never felt anything like it… he’s usually a pretty energetic person. Much more so than Craig is, and it’s a bone crushing kind of tired. His whole body feels heavy and he feels like his knees are constantly on the brink of buckling and giving out. He’s never felt anything like this before. It all just adds up. Maybe he’s being paranoid, but the thought cements itself in his brain. A voice in his head chants,  _ you’re pregnant, you’re pregnant, you’re pregnant!  _

 

What the fuck is he gonna do about it? The thought sends another wave of nausea flowing through him. He can’t take it anymore, so he caves, and goes home sick.

 

He waits for Craig though, patiently, even though the home pregnancy test kit he bought on the way home is burning a hole in his pocket. He just curls up in bed like he wanted to all day, hoping maybe he can get some sleep.

 

—

 

Tweek can’t understand how just how this happened. He and Craig were  _ not  _ looking to have a baby. They used contraception but obviously not well enough. They’re too young, barely out of school and not established. Not parent material. 

 

But the test reads positive, and Tweek doesn't know what the hell to do. Craig is also stunned into silence, standing still beside him, like a tree. Tweek desperately wants him to say something,  _ anything _ to break the tension.  _ Tweek  _ is the one who is pregnant, Craig could just fucking leave at any point and Tweek would still be the one left with a baby growing in his belly. Tweek would still have to do something, make some kinda choice. The idea grips him from the inside, hands shaking violently. He tries to keep it all together and not cry, but hormones betray him. 

 

The only thing breaking the loop of his terrifying thoughts is the feeling of Craig's hand enveloping his own jittering one. Tweek uses the feeling to ground himself and take a deep breath. 

 

“Try and calm down, Tweek,” Craig says evenly. He moves in closer and hugs Tweek from behind. “It's not the end of the world, okay?”

 

“I don't want this,” Tweek says pathetically. 

 

“You don't have to do anything you don't want, okay? We'll figure it out,” Craig promises. Tweek doesn't know how he can remain so calm. Maybe because it's not his body that has been invaded. 

 

Tweek honestly doesn't know what he wants, he just doesn't know if he is capable of being someone's parent. A baby that is half Craig would be gorgeous, Tweek is sure, but the half him bit? He doesn't really want a situation where he ends up with a child he can't look after. His heart aches thinking about them with a baby, a family, the thing he never really got to have before. Tweek’s parents were neglectful, emotionally abusive, and Tweek never felt close to them. As soon as he hit eighteen, he got out of that house and moved to the city with Craig, who is still attending college. On one hand, he could give this baby a real loving family, give them everything he never had. 

 

Or he could fuck this whole thing up and end up screwing his kid up worse. The idea terrifies him. 

 

“Tweek?” Craig asks. “You okay?”

 

“No,” Tweek replies honestly. “I love you so much, and the idea of us  _ -ah-  _ having a family is hurting my heart.”

 

“What? Why?” Craig frowns and holds Tweek tighter. 

 

“Because, because I don't think we can actually have that. I think I'm  _ -hnnn-  _ deluding myself,” Tweek says miserably. 

 

Craig runs his hand over Tweek’s shoulder and forearm. The repetitive motion is soothing, enough so that Tweek lets himself take some steady breaths. He melts into the touch and some of the tension dissipates. 

 

“We can have those things,” Craig says confidently. “Why shouldn't we have those things?”

 

“I don't know,” Tweek admits. “Because I'm me I guess, I'm a disaster. And well, I still can't  _ -nnn-  _ believe that I have you and that our relationship is real..? I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop and for you to leave.”

 

“Honey,” Craig says softly, “I'm not going anywhere, and we deserve all the same things everyone else does. If you want a family, we can have one, okay? Please don't make this decision based on you thinking I'm going to leave… Because I won't, okay?” 

 

Tweek sighs. “I'm sorry, I just… I'm not ready.”

 

Craig kisses him on the cheek and says, “Okay babe, we can talk about it later. When we've thought about it more.”

 

Tweek wishes he could separate his head and his heart like Craig can. 

 

—

 

Tweek feels like he is hypersensitive to kids all of a sudden. When people come into the diner with their little ones, people with swaddled babies on the bus or even just people on the street holding hands with their children as he walks home, he notices every time. Something unfamiliar squeezes his heart. He’s never felt this kind of hurt before, and it makes him really think about what is happening to his body. He and Craig could be like those people. He can see Craig piggybacking their kid, or swinging their baby together as they walk along the sidewalk. The thought makes Tweek feel both warm and achingly sad. He doesn’t know how to reconcile it. When he sees parents cooing over tiny babies he instantly wants to touch his stomach. He so badly wants to bond. 

 

He’s not even sure he trusts himself to carry this baby and bring them safely into the world, let alone raise it and keep it safe and happy for at least the next eighteen years. For the rest of his lifetime really, if he’s realistic. But what if he can’t be healthy enough? He drinks way too much coffee and doesn’t have the most healthy diet or sleeping patterns. He’s young but he’s stupid, he’s done dumb shit like drugs and drank way too much at parties. Could he have accidentally drank while pregnant? He doesn’t even remember the last time he’s had a drink. 

 

Can he do this? Should he allow himself to try? He knows deep down that the answer will be yes. He knows this, because the baby is Craig’s and he loves it already - as much as he loves Craig. But saying the words out loud is too terrifying. Craig isn’t pushing, because Tweek knows he wants the baby, too. 

 

Tweek concentrates on dragging himself through work, and tries not to burst into hormonal tears when he watches a mom play peek-a-boo with her baby.  _ That’ll be me,  _ he thinks,  _ I’m going to have a baby.  _

 

He steels himself at the thought, letting it sit instead of pushing it away. His child, his baby,  _ their _ baby. It weirds him out knowing all of this is happening inside him. That he is responsible for this life in a way that Craig just can’t be at the moment. He keeps his resolve the entire way home, repeating  _ I’m going to have a baby,  _ over and over again in his head like a glitch. He’s got to make it real, tell Craig and prepare himself. A baby can and will change everything. They have to be prepared. 

 

Craig is already home when he gets in the door, which doesn’t surprise Tweek. Craig had class today and probably got home mid afternoon. He can smell something cooking in the kitchen, and Tweek is so grateful. He doesn’t have the energy to cook tonight, or any night recently, and sometimes Craig can be a bit of a slack partner and not always do his fair share of chores. Recently though, he has been delivering. It’s probably because of the baby. Craig is trying to show him how mature and ready he is. 

 

Tweek is very happy to see him, and is quick to embrace Craig before he can say “hello.” 

 

“How are you feeling?” Craig asks instead when they break apart.

 

“Tired,” Tweek answers. “I could eat though.”

 

“That’s an improvement,” Craig says, smiling. “I’ve been really worried about you not eating enough.”

 

“I’m trying,” Tweek mumbles. And he has been. He’s been trying to force down anything. Mostly plain things like toast or rice, and he’s had pretty minimal success. Morning sickness is truly miserable. He doesn’t get the logic of his body making him feel so awful when he’s supposed to be providing nutrients for both himself  _ and _ a baby. 

 

“I know,” Craig replies. “It’s okay, Tweek.”

 

“I’m gonna have it!” Tweek blurts out, feeling his cheeks blush red. “ _ -ah-  _ The baby, I mean! I wanna have a family… with you…”

 

“I know,” Craig says kindly. “I didn’t want to push you, but I knew.”

 

“Are you… are you okay with that? Do you want that too?” Tweek asks nervously.

 

“Of course I do. I thought maybe we’d wait a bit longer, but like, I love you and I want to build this with you,” Craig responds warmly. “Just because something you want comes a little earlier than you thought, doesn’t mean you should throw it away.”

 

Tweek winces at Craig’s choice of words, but nods his head all the same. 

 

“We can make it work,” he mumbles, more to himself than anybody else.

 

—

 

Tweek is concerned. 

 

_ Concerned _ is definitely an understatement, but he doesn’t want to outright say he’s batshit crazy. He’s just terrified beyond belief. The doctor he went and saw with Craig, to confirm the pregnancy, told him very forlornly that he was going to have to come off  his medication. 

 

Tweek hasn’t even  _ thought  _ about that part - he’s been on these meds for so long they were just a part of his life. The doctor estimated he was about nine weeks along, so that means he’s been taking this stuff for  _ nine  _ weeks when he wasn’t supposed to be. 

 

All the articles he frantically reads on his phone once they’re home recommends that he should have come off them before they even started  _ trying.  _ Where does that leave someone like him, who hadn’t been trying? 

 

The doctor suggested a referral to a mental health specialist, but both Tweek and Craig know they can’t afford it. So Tweek is trying to do it by himself; well, he has the doctor and he has Craig… and the internet. But when it comes down to it, none of those things really feel helpful. 

 

The worst part was how the doctor said he had to be weaned off them, so he’s  _ still  _ taking them, knowing they might be hurting his baby. Yet stopping suddenly could hurt the baby too… and him. 

 

He doesn’t know if he’s making the right decisions about any of these things. Craig keeps telling him not to worry, that things will work out,  _ but what if they don’t?  _ What if Tweek accidentally poisoned his own baby? Would he still love it if it was messed up? What if the baby doesn’t even make it to full term? Everything is more real and more terrifying. 

 

Tweek only has to be off the lithium for another month or so, but if he is giving up the seroquel till further notice, then maybe he should just stick it out and try to come off both at the same time. It seems like the safest thing to do, and he could probably hold it together for another seven months or so. Maybe. He just doesn’t feel like he’s all that important anymore. Craig keeps mentioning that it might be better to go back on, but Tweek doesn’t like the uncertainty. The potential risk, even if supposedly minuscule, is that he’s already been poisoning his baby for nine weeks. There isn’t much knowing now if he did any harm. 

 

Tweek just follows the doses that his doctor prescribed, not wanting to do any more potential harm. He takes some of his sick leave at work and spends a lot of his time curled up in bed - a horrible combination of fatigue, nausea, headache and anxiety. Craig ends up taking leave too, just so Tweek has someone to sit with him and rub his back. It’s not so bad like the movies, mostly because Tweek is being weaned; he just feels anxious and headachey. The illness is probably pregnancy related, but it doesn’t really matter what’s causing it. 

 

He’s just so tired.

 

—


	2. I'm as Content as Can Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trimester two. Reference to mental health and med talk.

TRIMESTER TWO

 

Tweek was having weird dreams throughout all this, sometimes nightmares but not always. Sometimes they’re just surreal and disconcerting. He’s usually okay by the time he wakes up, but he remembers them a lot better now. The meds dulled that a bit. Craig tells him weird dreams in pregnancy aren’t uncommon, but that doesn’t really make Tweek feel any more at ease. 

 

One nightmare sticks to the sides of his skull and follows him through the day. Even when he thinks he has forgotten about it, or managed to pull himself back into reality, it will rear its ugly head. He’s had to split his hours with his assistant manager and is doing less hours at work. He hates that he can’t get himself together. Plenty of people work the whole way through, why the fuck can’t he cope? Sometimes work triggers thoughts of the nightmare, when he is doing something menial like counting money or wiping tables. He’ll really think about it, that it’s in him, he’s  _ growing  _ it. Because what if it isn’t a baby anymore? He took  _ two  _ drugs you weren’t supposed to take almost two months out of his first trimester. 

 

Sometimes Tweek dreams it’s a monster, not a baby anymore, warped into a hideous mess by his poor choices and he has no choice but to just  _ wait.  _ Just let it keep growing because when he feels like himself, when he is grounded and okay, he knows it’s a person. It’s his baby, he loves it and can’t wait to hold it.  _ But the thoughts won’t stop.  _

 

It really freaks him out when he starts to show. It’s just barely, only he and Craig can tell, but shit does it unnerve him. He sometimes feels like he’s being hijacked from the inside, his hands shaking when he looks in the mirror and remembers he has no control. And he knows,  _ he knows,  _ he’s being crazy and stupid but it’s like a terrible record on repeat in his head, skipping over and over the same scratch. His shaking hands drop one too many plates and cups. He knows things are really fucked when his assistant manager begs him to go home. So he does, doesn’t bother to text Craig that he’s left work early, and cries. He doesn’t even bother to change out of his work uniform or take his shoes off. He just face plants into their bed and sobs. This is why he was so hesitant.  _ This is why I can’t have these things.  _ Only he could turn his own child into something twisted and terrifying, only he could ruin something that’s supposed to be exciting and wonderful. 

 

Tweek doesn’t really know how long he’s been there, crying in the dark, when he hears the door click shut. His heart automatically enters panic mode, even though he  _ knows  _ it’s just Craig. It has to be Craig? Right?

 

“Craig?” He whimpers into the dark.

 

“Tweek?” Craig calls back. “You’re home early.”

 

Tweek doesn’t say anything as he hears Craigs boots plod down the hallway. He just stares at the feeble light emitting from the doorway, and waits for Craig’s silhouette to appear in it. 

 

“Oh shit,” Craig says when he finally peers into the darkness of the room. He doesn’t need to see Tweek’s face to know it’s bad. “Babe, do you wanna talk about it?”

 

Tweek shakes his head; there isn’t really anything to talk about. Craig’s pretty aware of the situation at hand, and Tweek feels like he’d just be rehashing the same conversation over and over again. 

 

“Can I turn the light on?” Craig asks him, voice low and calm.

 

“Yes,” Tweek replies. He’s not sure if he’ll be able to manage anything more than monosyllabic words at this point.

 

Craig turns on the light as he promised, and though it hurts Tweek’s head he’s glad for it. Craig isn’t a shadowy creature anymore, Tweek can really see him and know where his voice is coming from. 

 

“It’s gonna be okay Tweek,” Craig promises. “It’s just a bad day, not a bad life.”

 

Craig knows it’s more than just a bad day, it’s been a bad few weeks at least. He has never been an optimist, but being with Tweek seems to have forced him to learn. 

 

“Tweek… you don’t have to…” His face makes this weird twisted grimace as he tries to choke the words out. “You don’t have to… do this. If you can’t okay?”

 

“No, it’s not…” Tweek doesn’t know how to say it, because that’s not what he wants.  _ He  _ wants to be better, more capable. “I don’t want  _ that.”  _

 

_ “ _ Okay, I just wanted you to know that you can… if you need to, okay?” Craig says quietly. He moves forward and edges himself onto the bed, slowly, like he’s afraid he’ll frighten Tweek. He laughs fondly. “Tweek, you didn’t take your shoes off.”

 

“Sorry,” Tweek replies emptily. “I just couldn’t… I got home and I just  _ -ah- _ couldn’t…”

 

“It’s okay,” Craig says. “Can I take them off?”

 

Tweek nods dumbly, maneuvering himself so that Craig can get at his shoes. 

 

“I think you should go back on your meds, Tweek,” Craig suggests, as he unties the laces of Tweek’s work boots and begins to pull them off. 

 

“No,” Tweek says, trying to strangle back a sob. Just the idea of it makes his chest cave in. He could hurt his baby,  _ not a monster not a mutant a baby!  _ he reminds himself on repeat. He could hurt this little tiny thing he is solely responsible for these next few months. As much as Craig loves and supports him, Tweek is the one in this body. Tweek is the one who needs to keep this baby safe. Going back on his medication might be good for him, but nobody can guarantee him that it will be good for the baby. He doesn't want to take that chance. 

 

“Tweek… I'm not sure this should even be a discussion at this point. But you know what the doctor said, that there's no data that taking the lithium after the first trimester is dangerous… I accept that the seroquel is out, but I think we should try the lithium… just  _ try,”  _ Craig pleads and Tweek realises he has to come out with it. 

 

“I know I'm crazy,” he says, voice shaky and barely above a whisper, “but I can't stop thinking about how I might have done something terrible to this kid. What if  _ -nghh-  _ it isn't a baby anymore?”

 

“I don't follow, Tweek,” Craig replies. Tweek can see that Craig is trying his best not to react to Tweek’s crazy thoughts. Tweek has seen this in Craig before, when he's had previous episodes. When he too knows that he is talking crazy but Craig still tries to humor him. 

 

“I had a dream that I had a monster in my belly. Maybe a few times, and it's just  _ -hnn-  _ constant. I  _ know  _ it's a baby, it's  _ my  _ baby. But I'm still  _ -ah-  _ scared like… Like maybe I hurt it or messed it up.” Tweek stops to take a breath, and he avoids looking down at his stomach. “And sometimes when it's really bad I  _ -nnn-  _ can't even see a baby anymore… I freak out that I'm growing a monster and like… That's awful. That's my baby.” He has to cut himself off as a sob finds its way out of his chest. He has to lurch forward into Craig's arms and cling. He hasn't been so scared in a long time. 

 

“You're okay,” Craig says, shushing him and rubbing his back. “The meds will help these feelings, and I think that the baby would prefer a happy healthy parent, wouldn't you? There's no data to suggest a risk, Tweek. We tried going without and it wasn't the right option, it's okay.”

 

“I don't want to hurt them before they're even born,” Tweek says, his voice muffled in Craig's shirt. 

 

“Don't get mad at me, okay… But I think if you're in a good place and happy, you're less likely to hurt them… I don't… Well, you've done some self destructive things when you've been unwell,” Craig says. Tweek can appreciate that he's stumbling over trying to be nice. “You're gonna do better as a parent if you're not crazy, you know,” he reiterates, and Tweek can't help but snort a little with laughter. There's his Craig. He nods against Craig's shoulder anyway, because he knows deep down that he cannot do another five months of this. 

 

“We'll just talk to the doctor, okay?” Craig says before kissing the top of Tweek’s head. 

 

Tweek supposes that he has to make concessions sometimes. He can't have that perfect experience in movies and TV, because it’s not real. Real life, as Tweek knows it so far, is brutal, hurtful, but also loving and warm. He can't go on feeling like he’s growing a monster, he needs both feet firmly in the real world. 

 

—

 

Tweek in't quite sure when he crossed the bridge from not showing to visibly pregnant. He feels like he blinked and it all happened. Or like it all happened overnight while he was sleeping. He isn't huge or anything, not yet anyway, but there is enough of a swell for people to ask him when he’s due or if he knows the gender. He doesn't know the gender, they weren't able to find out yet. And even though, objectively, he knows he isn't huge, he still feels like he is. 

 

_ Uncomfortable _ is the best way he can put it. He doesn't exactly hate it, but it feels weird. Tweek doesn't know how he is going to cope with feeling the baby move for the first time, which is due to happen soon, when he’s freaking out this much over a bump. 

 

Overall he’s been doing better. He'd gone back on the mood stabiliser, on a lower dose negotiated with the doctor, and while the anxiety is still there he feels less like it’s looming over him. It’s a little easier to tell his head  _ no.  _ He tries to focus on the fact that on the whole, he is feeling better. He isn't nauseous all the time anymore and he definitely feels less fatigued. It is a blessing, because he managed to get back to his full schedule at work with minimal fuss. They really need the money, and Tweek was feeling a bit silly for refusing to go back on his meds for as long as he did. With a clearer head he can enjoy things more, even though the bump is freaky, he doesn't hate it or anything. His feelings are thoroughly mixed: some days he is self-conscious, and others he can't stop looking at himself in the mirror.

 

Today was a weird in-between kinda day. He’s feeling kind of tired, and is thankful that it's his day off. Craig only had class, so he was only out for a few hours before returning in the early afternoon. Tweek spent most of his day lazing around on the couch. He enjoys that Craig is taking responsibility for most of the housework and things. It's good because Craig doesn't work full time since he's still at school, so it's easier for him to vacuum during a study break or whatever. Again, Tweek goes back and forth between letting Craig do everything and then staunchly demanding independence. At least he can blame it on the hormones, and apologise for being a bitch later. 

 

Craig finds him lying on the couch and staring forlornly at his tummy. Tweek isn’t not sure how much longer he's gonna be able to squeeze into his work pants. He's wearing a pair of Craig's sweats today. They're a bit too long on the legs, but it doesn't really matter. Tweek lifts up his legs so that Craig can sit under them; he then drapes them over Craig's lap. 

 

“Did you rest today?” Craig asks him, running his thumb in circles over Tweek’s left thigh. He always asks Tweek if he's resting, but today Tweek doesn't have the energy to be annoyed about it. 

 

“Mhmm,” he hums distractedly. He wonders when he's supposed to get a whole new wardrobe. He's the manager at work and his regional manager knows that he is pregnant, so it's not like anybody is going to write him up for not wearing the uniform, but still. Tweek's not sure he wants to be wearing things that flaunt his belly. He kinda just wants to go on about his day like a normal person. 

 

Tweek is still thinking these thoughts when Craig reaches to place a hand on his stomach. Reflexively, Tweek pushes it away. He doesn't really mean to, his brain is just a bit oversensitive to that area right now. 

 

“Sorry,” he mutters and places Craig's hand back. 

 

“No, if you don't want me to touch you…”

 

“It's not that, Craig, you're like, the only person I want to touch me, especially there.” He sighs. “I'm just kinda wound up. I feel like I became a blimp all of a sudden man, when did that  _ -nnn- _ happen?” 

 

“Well, it didn't… You’re not a blimp,” Craig replies. “You're just pregnant.” 

 

“I know idiot, people just see me different now.  _ I _ see me different, it's weird…” Tweek trails off. 

 

“I only see you different in the sense that I'm even more amazed by you,” says Craig. “Like, it's crazy that your body is growing a whole person. So to me that's something extra to admire.”

 

“I guess so. Will you still admire me if my skin gets all  _ -ah-  _ saggy when the baby comes?” Tweek challenges. 

 

“Obviously,” Craig says without missing a beat. 

 

“What if I stay fat? What if I never lose any weight and just keep packing it on?” Tweek says, but he's teasing. His big grin gives him away. 

 

“Shut up, you know I don't care.” Craig laughs. 

 

“I do know, I'm just being shitty.” Tweek places his hand over Craig's, which is still resting on his stomach. “I don't hate my body or anything, I'm just not  _ -hnn-  _ used to it.”

 

“I'd probably cry like a little bitch if it was me,” Craig says. “So yeah, pretty admirable.”

 

“If I have stretch marks forever, just pretend you love them, okay?” Tweek smiles. 

 

“I won't be pretending, but I can do that.” Craig leans in for a kiss. Tweek heaves himself up and obliges. He's never really felt any doubt that Craig loves him, bump and all. 

 

—

 

Work is honestly where Tweek hates his bump the most. He’s outgrown his work uniform recently, and has mostly been wearing the diner colours of red and black. He makes sure to always have on his name tag that says he’s the manager. People are less inclined to yell at a pregnant manager. Overall, Tweek thinks he runs a pretty tight ship and they don’t get genuine complaints all that often, just mostly assholes who want a free meal or just like to yell at waitstaff. When they realise he’s pregnant they usually go quiet, and that’s part of the problem. While it’s a perk at work, it still bothers Tweek, because it’s people treating him markedly different. At home, Craig is pretty normal, he’s just a bit more helpful around the house than he was before (and Tweek is less helpful but Craig graciously never brings that up). At work, people act completely different. If Tweek weren’t on his medication he might start thinking they’re evil clones or something. 

 

Tweek doesn’t really want his staff thinking of him as cute or vulnerable. He wants them to treat him as the boss he’s been for a year now. Customers obviously do it too; they ask him personal questions Tweek can’t imagine anyone feeling comfortable answering. And people who’ve already had kids try to tell him all their horror stories. He just wants to do his job without the baby being brought up for like, five minutes. 

 

Some people like to talk about their lives at work, bitch about their partners or parents or whomever, maybe even complain about their own pregnancies. But Tweek doesn’t. He mostly just complains to Craig, or Clyde and Bebe if they come over. It’s not that he doesn’t like his colleagues, he’s just not that into talking about his home life. He just wants to do his job and move on. People ask him about Craig a lot:  _ is he pitching in? Do you think he’s responsible enough? You’re both so young, has he grown up more since you found out?  _

 

Tweek really thinks if anyone’s a problem it’s him. Craig is a great partner. If he found himself in this situation with anyone else, he thinks he’d be less inclined to keep the baby. He doesn’t say this, because it’s not a socially acceptable thing to say, but it irks him how little faith everyone seems to have in Craig. Maybe it’s because they’re young and unmarried, but Tweek doesn’t really think he needs that legal bit of paper to have Craig stay. Tweek doesn’t feel insecure in the relationship. 

 

His bump is beginning to get in the way a bit too. Tweek is doing less cleaning and a lot more things like taking orders and balancing the books. He doesn’t actually bring the food out because his balance is off from all the new baby weight, but he’ll work the register and pull coffees. The back of the diner is small and filled with narrow spaces. Tweek isn’t sure what he’s going to do when he gets third trimester big. The worst moment so far happens when Tweek crouches down behind the counter to look for another bag of coffee grounds and finds himself stuck. He has to call over a waitress to help him up, and it’s super embarrassing. He spends the rest of his shift staring down at his belly wondering how on earth it could cause so much chaos. 

 

The doctor has told him multiple times that he’s bigger than average, and it doesn’t get any less frustrating each time he hears it. He definitely feels big when he’s on his feet all day: he feels it in his hips, back, ankles, feet, everything. Even the muscles in his belly ache, maybe from stretching so quickly, Tweek’s not sure. There’s so much pressure in his stomach too, it’s all so tight and uncomfortable. Tweek doesn’t even want to think about what eight months is gonna feel like. The doctor tells him at his twenty-week scan that he’s probably going to expect to get even bigger soon, because the muscles in his belly have yet to really ‘give.’ Which should relieve some of the pressure, but only temporarily. 

 

At twenty weeks they can see if the gender is visible. Tweek is more content to know that the baby looks very humanlike on the scan, or at least exactly like all the articles he’d been reading had told him what it was supposed to look like. They decide not to find out the gender; it isn’t something that really matters to them. Tweek thinks that Craig maybe wants a little boy, but he knows Craig will love the baby either way. Tweek’s just relieved to know that it really is a baby, and that as far as anyone could tell, there is nothing wrong with it. 

 

It’s all really overwhelming and weird, knowing that all this is going on inside him. But to top that all off, now he can feel the baby move. First just little bubbles, like gas; he almost didn’t notice. It started at night when he was supposed to be asleep, but the funny feeling in his tummy kept him awake. The movements are a bit more pronounced now, and getting moreso every day. The feeling of them really reminds Tweek that this is a person in his belly. Not gas, or a food baby, or just some extra weight. An actual baby, that will cry and giggle and depend on them for everything. And it’s inside him, growing. 

 

“I can’t see my feet,” Tweek whines to Craig one morning. 

 

“That’s supposed to happen,” Craig says. He’s already booting up his laptop to start working on a paper. Tweek is stupid proud of his studious boyfriend. (Who has become extra studious since knowing he is to become a father.) 

 

“I know it is but like, I’m not  _ that  _ pregnant, I’m like, halfway,” Tweek moans.

 

“Tell that to the kid, then. Maybe the muscles in your belly just ‘gave’, like the doctor said.” Craig is still seated on their bed. Tweek has today off, one of his registered days off per week, but he’s awake and frowning at the mirror. 

 

He runs a hand over the swell of his stomach to really see just how much it’s grown. Maybe Craig is right, but Tweek can’t say he feels less pressure or tightness in there. He rests his hand on the roundest part of his belly. 

 

“It’s really tight around my belly button,” he complains. There’s a lot of new stretch marks along his side, his love handles and hips so to speak. 

 

“Maybe your belly button is gonna pop soon,” Craig says, half-joking.

 

“God, maybe!” Tweek frets. “I’ll  _ -nnn-  _ explode before I get to forty weeks, Craig.”

 

“You won’t,” Craig, the voice of reason explains. “The baby might come before forty weeks anyway.”

 

“Don’t say shit like that,” Tweek says with a frown.

 

—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr is blesspastacraig if you wanna be friends :)


	3. This is the Life for Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Tweek trimester three isn't fun, and labour ends up being more dramatic than anyone predicted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you sooo much to @metrophobic for editing this even though it turned out to be such a monster!

TRIMESTER THREE

 

Tweek was facing a dilemma at work. He’d only just hit seven months but was already struggling to fit into the kitchen, storage, behind counters and in booths. It was awkward and it made inventory impossible. The amount of jobs he was able to physically do was being cut in half. Craig wanted him to just take leave and quit when his leave ran out but Tweek wasn’t sure. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to work right after the baby was born and he knew that his work may choose to replace him and just pay his leave in a lump sum. The doctor was telling him to quit too, telling him he was stressing himself into potential complications like preeclampsia. Tweek knows his body isn’t coping with pregnancy as well as some other people’s do. But it’s the threat to the baby that really makes him put in for leave. He hopes all the resting won’t get too boring, but who knows. 

 

He ends up putting himself on his own, less-restrictive bed rest by accident. He finds himself staying in bed more, or even just sitting on the bed while he does boring things like pay the bills. Moving around is just so much harder now: the belly is in the way of everything, and Tweek needs Craig’s help just to get up sometimes. Other times he can manoeuvre himself using a wall or something to grip on to like a bedpost. He’s surprisingly not that bored, he’s so tired that he finds he needs the rest. He saves his energy and waking hours for when Craig is home. Sometimes he can’t always sleep, his stomach is too big for any other position besides sleeping on his side to be comfortable. And the kid moves, it kicks and elbows and stretches - if the baby is awake Tweek can only wait for it to calm again. He’s pretty sure whatever muscles in his stomach that the doctor was talking about have finally loosened as his belly was significantly bigger since he’d hit trimester three. His feet are a distant memory and he’s pretty sure his belly button is gonna pop from an innie to an outie any day now. 

 

And he’s still got two more months to go. 

 

He and Craig are snuggled together in bed as Craig traces circles over Tweek’s stomach. It was alright for Craig, he didn’t have to carry the weight around all day, Tweek was already feeling like he needed to roll over onto his side and make a pillow fort to support the bump. He stayed where he was for Craig’s sake, he could wait out a little longer so that Craig can feel some more kicks. He wriggles a little in Craig’s arms, struggling to get comfortable. Everything in his diaphragm is so tight, the kid is squishing all his organs but especially his lungs.

 

“It’s fucking hard to breathe sometimes,” he says to Craig. “The baby sometimes just  _ -nghh-  _ crushes my lungs.”

 

“That’s gross, I don’t know how you aren’t insane,” Craig says. Tweek resists the urge to smack him because while it’s weird, it’s not  _ gross.  _

 

“I am, clearly,” Tweek quips. “Ugh,” he groans, shifting. “Your kid is a little  _ -ah-  _ fucker.”

 

“What? What now?” Craig frowns.

 

“They just moved into a worse spot for my  _ -gah-  _ lungs,” Tweek replies, knowing he noticeably sounds breathless. 

 

“Oh I can feel, yeah, this side of your belly is more lumpy,” Craig says, running his fingers around the curve. 

 

“Can you poke the kid till it moves, please?” Tweek asks. “Then after help me arrange my pillows so we can finally get some sleep.”

 

Although it was wishful thinking on Tweek’s part, as the pillows really only provided so much comfort. The baby is active tonight, Tweek doesn’t think he’d eaten anything sugary before bed or done anything different that would cause the baby to be. He’s been thinking about cereal all day, the super sugary breakfast kind but he’s had the self control to not eat it. He knows what sugar does to his baby, and while he does like to feel movement and know that they’re active he draws the line here. Here is much more of a miserable kind of uncomfortable. He wants to toss and turn, but he can’t anymore. His stomach is much too big and heavy and changing position requires a whole manoeuvre usually with a Craigs help. And the whole pillow structure needs to be shifted, Tweek actually would get no sleep without support under his stomach. 

 

He’s been staring into the darkness when he decides fuck it, he’s been horribly uncomfortable most of the night anyway and the kid isn’t showing any signs of calming down. He decides to let himself be the pregnant cliché he’d always thought was the lamest. So he heaves himself up very ungracefully and shakes Craig awake. 

 

“I’m fucking hungry,” he says to a still groggy Craig.

 

“You need a hand up?” Craig asks blearily.

 

“No I mean like, I need  _ -hnn-  _ cereal, Craig. Like frosted flakes…” 

 

“We don’t have those, because you said they were unhealthy,” Craig drones on dumbly.

 

“I know that Craig, I was present for that conversation. But I wasn’t seven months pregnant then, so help me the fuck up and take me to the store.” 

 

“I guess this is what they mean by cravings?” Craig remarks.

 

“Shut the fuck up or I’ll make you go alone,” Tweek says with a fierce glare. He knows Craig probably can’t see his face properly but he is confident that the glare is fierce enough for Craig to feel it even with the lights off. 

 

—

 

Tweek is going off the rails a little bit in regards to healthy eating. He can’t help it, his baby is a garbage guts apparently. He’s finding the cravings a lot harder to ignore than before, and sometimes the shit he eats ends up giving him indigestion anyway. Being pregnant is bullshit. It’s probably to support a growth spurt or something but still, he’s  _ supposed  _ to be eating healthy. It’s hard to be motivated when whenever he sits down he often ends up pinned to the couch by the baby. The bump is well and truly in the way now, and he needs Craig’s help for nearly everything. 

 

When it actually happens though, he doesn’t notice it at first. He often wakes up still quite tired and groggy from his poor sleep the night before. Even if the baby is calm and sleeping Tweek is still kept awake by pain and discomfort. More than anything he really wants this kid out. So when he wakes up that morning he’s really still quite out of it when he reaches up stretching and yawning. His shirt rides up, because they all do now. He has very few that fit properly, even pregnancy ones and at night he doesn’t really bother and just lets the shirts ride up. 

 

He doesn’t really worry about his belly being on display to Craig. Craig put the baby in there, so Craig can deal with the consequences. 

 

“Oh look,” Craig says, a dumb lopsided grin in his face.

 

“Huh?” Tweek manages, eyes barely open.

 

“Your belly button hon, it’s ‘popped’,” Craig says. That wakes Tweek up a bit, his hands flying to his belly to feel and yep, there it is. He looks down at his stomach to see an outie where an innie once was. 

 

“Damn,” he says quietly, “I’m gigantic.”

 

“Are… Are you okay?” Craig asks, treading cautiously.

 

“Yeah, I’m fine… it’s just weird, my whole body is just  _ -nnn-  _ completely different to what it was… you know I’m never gonna look like I did before, right?” Tweek is genuinely curious as to what Craig’s response will be. 

 

“I don’t care,” Craig says, and while Tweek’s instinct is to respond  _ how can you know that?  _ he doesn’t. The sureness in Craig’s voice stops him.

 

“I’m probably gonna get old and fat too, Tweek, you gonna leave me?” he teases.

 

“I thought I wasn’t fat?” Tweek says with a laugh. 

 

“You’re not, but when we’re old you might be? I might be too? Bodies change, I stay for your soul.”

 

“Aw shit,” Tweek replies, feeling a little choked up. Hormonal tears are already welling, god fucking damn it. Craig pulls him in for a hug. 

 

“I couldn’t do what you’re doing,” Craig says kindly. “You’re much stronger than me.”

 

Tweek shrugs. “You’d do just fine, you just do what you gotta.” 

 

“Give yourself a little more credit, babe,” Craig says and leans in to kiss Tweek’s forehead. 

 

“Yeah, okay,” Tweek replies, a yawn overcoming him again. “I think our baby is a vampire,” he notes.

 

“Why is that?” Craig asks through laughter.

 

“Because it’s sucking my energy dry, I just wanna go  _ -hnn-  _ back to bed.” He sighs.

 

“I wouldn’t judge you,” Craig says with a shrug of his shoulders. Craig would probably like all this lazing around much more than Tweek does. 

 

“I’m judging me,” Tweek groans. “I used to be productive, energetic.”

 

“You’ll probably be those things again once they’re out. In fact, those things will probably help you survive through all the sleep we’re not going to get,” Craig offers. Tweek supposes he’s right, he’s already used to long days at work, he’s just gonna have to shift that mentality to managing home. He can definitely do that. 

 

Tweek feels off for most of the day and ends up giving in and going back to bed. He decides not to fight his body when it wants to sleep because sleep for him is so few and far between. He doesn’t tempt fate when his baby goes quiet and he lets himself rest. He doesn’t sleep the whole day away, more sleeps in bursts before he is woken by a kick or a jab. He just flops between being desperately tired and desperately hungry. It might be boring if he weren’t so exhausted. He really only gets out of bed for lunch and even then, he just takes a bag of salt and vinegar chips back up to the bedroom. He knows this is a poor decision and that he’s supposed to have made some nutritious meal for himself but who can be bothered? Maybe if he was finding this physically easier, or if Craig had more time to cook things and then freeze them. But this isn’t some kind of Martha Stewart book, Tweek isn’t making some kind of perfect nuclear family. He's doing his best with what he has, and what he has is very minimal patience and a bag of chips. 

 

So maybe the chips weren’t the best decision, and Tweek definitely doesn’t feel very good after he’s eaten them, but it’s just one of those days. He was tired and he wanted to do the easiest thing, sue him. At first he kind of just thinks his stomach is upset from eating so crap and erratically so he curls back up in bed and fell into a fitful sleep. He only wakes up properly when Craig comes back from work and shakes him awake.

 

“Tweek, are you alright?” Craig asks. Tweek just moans, still not sure what is going on. 

 

“Tweek, babe, what’s the matter?” Craig asks again.

 

“Huh?” 

 

“You were kinda moaning in your sleep?” Craig says, eyebrows raised.

 

“Ugh,” Tweek manages. “I feel kinda strange.”

 

“Strange?” Craig echoes.

 

“My stomach is upset, I think?” Tweek says with a frown. 

 

“You think?”

 

“God, I don’t know. It kinda hurts,” he replies. He knows he’s being a bit rude but Craig can’t really expect him to write a three page detailed essay on how he feels surely. He’s just woken the fuck up. 

 

“Do you think maybe…” Craig trails off, but the implications are clear.

 

“I dunno, Google what  _ -gah- _ labour feels like,” Tweek huffs, rolling his eyes.

 

“Okay, hold on…” Craig says, pulling out his phone. Tweek almost scoffs but stops himself, because Craig is trying - and that’s important. “What kind of pain is it?”

 

“It’s like, cramps kinda…” Tweek replies. He rubs the side of his stomach, it’s feeling kind of tight and uncomfortable. When he really thinks about it, it does hurt but it’s not like anything he’s ever felt before. It’s twisting and almost spasming - if the spasm just kept going on and on.

 

“Stopping and starting?” Craig asks, almost on cue.

 

“No, pretty constant.”

 

“How bad?” Craig quickly fires again, not stopping to take a breath. Tweek tries not to get too caught up in his stress. 

 

“It’s not so bad, more  _ -nghh-  _ uncomfortable,” Tweek answers and shifts his weight a little on the bed. He rubs his lower stomach, where it’s really beginning to feel tight. 

 

“Oh, good,” Craig breathes.

 

“Good?” Tweek frowns. He’s sort of annoyed that Craig is stressing and not over here on the bed comforting him. Tweek wants to be cuddled and to have his back rubbed and to just feel loved. 

 

“Yeah, it’s probably fake contractions,” Craig says, still sounding breathless.

 

“Probably,” Tweek says before reaching out for Craig. “Can you come here please?” he whines. “I’m not exactly feeling  _ -hnn-  _ great over here.”

 

“Oh shit,” Craig says and leaps into action. “Of course, babe. I’m sorry.”

 

He climbs up onto the bed and lets Tweek settle into his arms. Tweek places his hands on his belly and rests his head on Craig’s shoulder.

 

“Can you just like, rub there?” Tweek asks. “That’s where it’s  _ -ah-  _ tight.”

 

“Sure,” Craig replies. “I love you so much, just so you know.”

 

—

 

The Braxton Hicks contractions become a pretty regular thing for Tweek. He gets used to them to the point that he can mostly still just go about his day. It’s kind of just like a bad stomach ache, or the way your insides might twist in a terrible anxiety attack. Tweek learns to manage. So when his stomach begins to tighten and hurt again, just like before, Tweek just assumes it to be false labour again. He is only just 36 weeks pregnant, so he really doesn’t think it’s time just yet anyway. He instead stays curled up in bed with all his pillows and blankets in his sleeping position. 

 

“My back hurts again,” Tweek mumbles to Craig, who is just stepping out of the shower. Tweek catches a quick glimpse as he walks over to the closet to find some pyjamas, towel around his waist. Tweek enjoys the view despite his discomfort. Craig has such nice skin, always soft, Tweek knows this because he is a stickler for his skincare routine but he enjoys the results nonetheless. Craig’s not a model or anything, he has a little chubby tummy and gangly long legs. He’s supposed to be hairy, but he constantly tortures himself and removes all his body hair. Tweek likes all of it, he wouldn’t trade his Craig for anybody else. He hums contentedly when Craig sides in to spoon him, wearing only pyjama bottoms. 

 

“Does your belly hurt?” Craig asks. “Can I do something?”

 

“Yeah.” He sighs. “A bit, you can just  _ -nnn-  _ hold me for a bit, I’ll try to sleep it off.”

 

But it really wasn’t to be, even when Tweek isn't in any intense or direct pain he’s still very uncomfortable. He can’t lie still in one position and keeps having to ask Craig to help him move. He is horrified when the realisation actually dawns on him - what if this is the real deal? In his haze he hadn’t really thought to compare differences but the pain is definitely stronger this time, but it isn’t constant. It ebbs and flows, he feels nauseous too, and his back. His back hurts so much, more than just muscle strain or ache. The pain is purposeful - he knows four weeks isn’t super early to be having a baby but the idea fills him with dread nonetheless. He wanted for everything to go exactly as it should for the birth of his child - he wanted to be forty weeks, for his water to have broken and for things to go just like the books told him. Thirty-six weeks feels far too soon. 

 

“Craig, I think I’m having a baby,” Tweek whines, clutching Craig’s hand.

 

“Like for real?” Craig asks. 

 

“Yeah for fucking real, can you call the hospital please?” Tweek snips, both from pain and from frustration at Craig’s inaction. 

 

“Isn’t it early?” Craig mumbles. 

 

“Tell the kid that, Jesus!” Tweek hisses, another contraction beginning to take hold. 

 

“Fuck!” Craig exclaims and leaps out of bed. “Ok, ok, I’m calling them.”

 

—

 

They want Tweek to come in, mainly to assess if it is real labour and if it is would they proceed. Thirty-six weeks is considered late preterm so it probably wouldn’t be that big of a drama to bring the baby into the world a little early. Tweek is nervous all the same, to the doctors this is just another birth - they do this every day. But this is Tweek’s baby, his  _ only  _ baby. His first child, maybe he’ll never have another, he doesn’t know that yet. And there is nothing about being in labour early that Tweek likes. 

 

After being assessed and being told that yes, he would be having this baby in the next twenty-four hours they admit him and then just kinda leave him. Things are progressing pretty slowly and it has predominantly just been Tweek and Craig mucking around between contractions. The contractions themselves hurt quite a lot, enough that Tweek can just be cut off mid sentence and have to stop and breathe to get himself through. They feel really strong to Tweek, but the doctor says that he isn’t dilated enough. He can’t have an epidural yet and he can’t push, they’ve offered him some lesser painkillers but Tweek is trying to see how long he can go without. Much to Craig’s dismay. 

 

“It’s not a competition, Tweek,” Craig says after the nurse checking on Tweek has left.

 

“I think it’s important that I feel what my  _ -nnn-  _ body is doing,” Tweek explains. He knows it’s a little masochistic, because he’s not one of those people who thinks people who take pain relief during labour are weak or anything. But for him, there’s something helpful about being able to really know what’s going on internally, even though it’s painful. 

 

“I just hate seeing you in pain.” Craig sighs. He’s slumped in a chair by Tweek’s bed, clearly tired. Tweek feels a pretty similar way, at least Craig doesn’t have to have contractions. 

 

“Then don’t get me  _ -ah-  _ pregnant again, just let me try to work through this, okay? If I can’t take it anymore I’ll get an epidural or whatever,” Tweek says, he’s already beginning to brace himself, knowing another is coming. 

 

“Okay.” Craig nods. “It’s your body, I just… I’m worrying.”

 

“I know you are,” Tweek says. “I— ah!” He tenses with the contraction and squeezes Craig’s hand tight, mind wiped blank from his previous train of thought by the pain. He tries to concentrate on his breathing until the pain begins to fade.

 

“I feel sick,” he says miserably.

 

“I think that’s normal,” offers Craig.

 

“I know, I just… ugh I just wanna hold my baby,” he says, drawing circles on his belly absentmindedly. 

 

“Me too,” Craig says. “I wanna know you’re safe and sound and that our baby is healthy and happy.”

 

“It’s weird how we form our own little families and these people just end up  _ -hnn-  _ meaning so much,” Tweek ponders. “Like, we’ve chosen each other as partners, and we love each other so much we’ve  _ made  _ a human… and now I feel like, without you and our baby… well, my world stops unless I know you’re both okay.”

 

“I suppose that’s one plus to being pregnant. You’re always gonna know if the kid is safe when it’s in your belly,” Craig says, leaning over to pat Tweek’s stomach.

 

“I want ‘em out, I’ve had enough.” Tweek laughs. “I need my  _ -gah-  _ body back.”

 

“You’ve been pretty miserable this trimester,” Craig agrees. “I wanna see you back to your old self too.”

 

Tweek nods. “Tell your kid to get a move on then, I’m ready to meet them.”

 

—

 

Tweek isn’t exactly sure how they got from laughing and joking between contractions to emergency c-section but he remembers there was blood. A shitload of it. 

 

He does remember the pain shooting up suddenly, he felt like he was being torn in two. He vomited then, all over Craig with no warning but before he could even apologise for that he was bleeding. Everywhere. He didn’t even have time to scream, his lights went out almost immediately and he was dead to the world. For him, unconsciousness felt like floating in cold water, weirdly relaxing but also unnerving. His actual memory of the time where he hovered between living and dead is non existent, but the cold water remains, stuck almost subliminally. Sometimes he heard little snippets of voices, people yelling, Craig crying, and lastly, importantly a baby crying. His baby was alive, so he had to make it back to her somehow. Of course Tweek knows he holds no control over these things, but he likes to think she is why he made it through. 

 

When he opens his eyes, weighted heavy from drugs and fatigue he’s unaware what’s transpired. He can see Craig, he’s blurry, but he’s still Craig. Craig leaps up from his chair and instantly begins crying. He grabs Tweek’s hand and clutches tight. 

 

“Tweek, I love you so much,” he’s saying through messy sobs. 

 

It takes Tweek a second to realise it, but his belly hurts. It’s lighter. He’s not pregnant…  _ where is the baby? _

 

What comes out of his mouth is gibberish, but he must have managed the word  _ baby  _ because Craig leaps into action and begins explanations.

 

“The baby is okay Tweek, we had a girl! She’s little but she’s perfect. She’s strong, and honestly she came out of this a lot better than you did.”

 

“A girl.” Tweek hums, probably a little high from whatever drugs he’s on. “Can I see her?”

 

“Not yet, I’m sorry,” Craig says forlornly. “They don’t want you moving around yet, the surgery you just had was really rough. You nearly bled out.” His face goes green just from saying it.

 

“What happened to me?” Tweek mumbles. “What did I do?”

 

“You didn’t do anything, babe, the placenta tore away or something. People die from that, we’re so lucky everyone’s okay,” Craig explains. He’s clearly antsy and uncomfortable, probably not wanting to overload Tweek with information. But Tweek’s too high on whatever painkillers he’s been given to really have it sink in. 

 

“Why can’t I just see her?” he asks.

 

“I’ll bring her to you as soon as I can, or I’ll take you… whichever I can first. Just… Tweek, you’re in bad shape, okay, your kidneys were failing… you gotta stay here till you’re stronger… I’m so sorry,” Craig rambles. Tweek squeezes his hand to let him know that he gets it. 

 

It’s hurting him right in the soul to be separated from the tiny person he carried for eight months but he can’t take that out on Craig. He just makes Craig promise to take pictures, tons and tons.

 

—

 

Their baby girl graduates from the NICU before Tweek is healthy enough to visit. A testament to both how strong their little baby is and how very ill Tweek still is. Tweek is still regaining his strength back, mostly trying to regain as much function in his kidneys as possible. The doctors are optimistic that Tweek will be able to live a normal life without dialysis as long as he is careful. They warn him maybe not to go through another pregnancy as pregnancy in itself can cause kidney damage and failure. Tweek doesn’t feel like he needs another baby anyway, even if Craig assures the doctor the next one will be had by him. 

 

Craig brings her in all swaddled in hospital blankets and a nurse helps Tweek to sit up. Craig is quick to pass her over and Tweek has to steel himself not to freak out that she’s finally in his arms. The weight of her feels weird, yet also very natural - she’s not fussing or crying. Just blinking up at him with these big, blue-green eyes. Tweek can’t hold in the sob, her eyes are a perfect mix of both his and Craig’s. Craig has a hand on his back, steady. 

 

“You okay?” Craig asks and Tweek nods through his tears. He’s  _ so  _ okay, overwhelmed, but definitely okay. She’s here, she’s tiny and gorgeous and she’s his. She's not a monster, she’s perfect. Ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes, two eyes and a perfect button nose. She’s theirs, he has to get better at that, he might have grown her but Craig has been doing the bulk of the caring recently.

 

“We don’t even have a name picked,” Tweek says, voice coming out in a croaky, watery laugh. 

 

“We’re procrastinators,” Craig says. “I really wasn’t sure what I’d name a girl anyway…”

 

“I have an idea, but it’s kinda corny,” Tweek suggests. He doesn’t take his eyes off the little bundle in his arms. She’s so small, Tweek just can’t wrap his head around it. She’s frowning up at him with a grumpy squished face that almost all babies have. God, Tweek can’t believe she’s his - that he and Craig made her. This little thing is the source of so much chaos but also so much love. 

 

“Go ahead,” Craig prods. “I like corny.”

 

“Stella. Like Star? I feel like during all those bad times when I was really  _ -hnn-  _ down that she was my bright spot in the dark, you know?” Tweek says. His daughter is beginning to fuss in his arms. Wriggling and making little whines and mewls - Tweek doesn’t need to be an experienced parent to know that she’ll be crying soon. 

 

“Tweek… that’s really corny, but I love it,” Craig says, going misty eyed. 

 

“Is that… did we just name her?” Tweek asks, shifting her a little in an effort to settle her. 

 

“Yeah,” Craig sighs. “Yeah, I think so.”

 

Their moment is interrupted by Stella beginning to cry. Tweek is instantly cooing and kissing her head, muttering  _ “you’re okay”  _ and  _ “I love you.”  _ It's some kind of natural instinct, a switch that automatically comes on. 

 

“She needs feeding,” Craig says. “Do you want to?”

 

“Of course,” Tweek replies. 

 

Craig and the nurses guide him through it, teaching him how to make the bottle, how to hold it and then how to burp her. But Tweek carries himself, not needing too much help or intervention and he’s beyond emotional when she falls asleep on his chest. His perfect little one, Tweek would move mountains for her. He feels so full all of a sudden, now that she’s here and that he’ll never quite feel so happy and warm again without her. He feels oddly complete, he has a family - him, Craig and Stella. In this moment any fears of his incompetence are gone, because he’s her dad. He can’t take that back, ever, and it’s just his job. It’s his job to make sure she’s okay, loved, safe, nurtured. All the things he never was, before that had felt like a disadvantage but now Tweek knows how he can turn it into strength. He knows how he can be better than his own parents. And maybe he’ll fuck up sometimes, but he’s confident that it won’t be  _ so  _ bad that he’ll hurt her. For the first time since he saw that pink little plus sign on the home pregnancy test kit he feels like he  _ can  _ do this. 

 

Even when things get dark, feel bleak and desolate - he has his bright spot to guide his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr is blesspastacraig if you wanna be friends :)

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is blesspastacraig if you wanna be friends :)


End file.
